Olympian Quests Trilogy: Resurrection of Chaos
by imaginationsdaydreamsandwords
Summary: A life of a demigod is never normal. A normal day for them includes fighting monsters, constant danger and possible loss. It is inevitable. But when the world is again plunged into danger that threatens even the immortals, will it ever be 'normal' again?
1. Epilogue

**Hello to all readers. I'm only new to FanFiction, but I'm fond of writing stories. This idea's been floating around in my head for a while so I decided to do something about it and transfer it into words. The story will be in different POVs. Percy Jackson fans, don't fret, I will weave in some old characters, too. **

**The story will be about the result of the birth of Kraenous (Kronos, Gaea and Ouranous together) by Gaea. Monsters run amok.**

**Evil might reign.**

**Epilogue: Congratulations, it's a Girl**

**It was an normal night at Camp Half-blood. **The dryads had retreated into their trees from the biting cold. The satyrs were huddled, cold even with their thick goat fur. Peleus the dragon seemed fine, snoring out rings of smoke as he lay curled at the base of the pine tree that gave magical borders of protection to the camp, the Golden Fleece glistened even in the dark. The campers were in their cabins, snoozing. The only people awake were Chiron, the camp director and centaur and Dionysus, known as Mr D, the wine god.

The clouds were gathered in the sky, muting out the light of the moon. What scarce moonlight that managed to filter through the clouds betrayed nothing out of the ordinary. If 'ordinary' was what you described a place where the children of the gods lived.

The strawberry fields fluttered slightly into the freezing wind. The lake was still, its waters being a gigantic mirror reflecting the covered starry sky. No sound was made. No sound was heard. Until it came.

A tiny, golden cradle landed on the porch with the softest of thuds. The soft light it exuded illuminated the features of the Big House's front door in the night. Chiron cantered to the window, pulling the curtain aside. Surprise glinted in his eyes. Inside the house, Mr D called, "Who is it, Chiron? Scared I'll thump you in pinochle again?"

Chiron ignored the wine god's voice and opened the door. It was in the dead of winter, and most campers had headed home. Only those with the troubled families had reasons to stay. That and tending to the strawberries.

The inside of the cradle was quiet. Chiron peeked into the cloth-lined interior. A small baby was lying still, clothed in linen. It looked up at the immortal centaur with wide, brown, curious eyes, taking in the beard and the mane of hair. "Goo," the baby murmured softly.

Mr D appeared at the door, holding a glass of Diet Coke. "What in the gods' names are you-" he said, before spotting the bundle. "Whose is that?"

Chiron, once again, ignored him. He stooped down and gently took the baby from the cradle. Only when it was in his arms did he notice the light silvery aura surrounding it. Then a bright golden light flashed and blinded him. Only surprise and fear kept him holding the baby.

Chiron was almost overcome with the power that the baby radiated. It was like being crammed inside a nutshell with a nuclear bomb that was going off. When darkness finally came again, Chiron managed to speak. "Impossible…"

Mr D threw his glass of Diet Coke in the air and clicked his fingers, making it vanish before it hit the deck. "Stay there, Chiron," he said in a quivering voice. "I must call a council of the gods." He disappeared into the house again and Chiron heard him dial Zeus.

Like Chiron could move. What that meant, it was impossible. It couldn't even be imagined. What this baby was… The baby gurgled. Chiron looked at it, unblinking. Few minutes passed.

"Come Chiron, we must head to Olympus," Mr D said, appearing again.

"I will stay," Chiron said, offering the baby to Mr D.

Mr D flinched. "No, come with me. You hold… it. Argus will take care of the camp for now. This matter cannot be delayed. See you in Olympus." With a bright flash, he was gone.

Chiron thought for another minute. When he finally made up his mind, he told Argus to tell the camp that he'll be back by mid-morning and galloped. As he broke into a sprint, time bent and he appeared at the entrance of the Empire State Building.

Cars went passed but paid him no attention. A hot dog vendor stared at him with wide eyes, though. Chiron couldn't help but sigh. Only in New York would there be late-night hot dog vendors.

He entered the lobby and the doorman led him to the elevator. As the doors slid shut, Chiron thought hard about what this might mean. Another prophecy, maybe. Another war, hopefully not. Destruction for the gods? Probable.

With a _ping_ the elevator stopped and the doors opened to Olympus. This time, the grand and beauty of the place held no awe in him. He walked- or galloped- his way to the meeting.

The oversized gods sat on their chairs, meeting his gaze with grim expressions. Even Apollo, who usually played Angry Birds on his iPhone during such meetings, was still, watching the centaur walk into the middle of the proceedings. Dionysus was already there, a bottle of Diet Coke next to him untouched. Athena, the goddess of wisdom, was quiet. Aphrodite, goddess of love, looked beautiful as ever, but also serious. Hermes, messenger and god of thieves, finished his call and turned his phone off. Hephaestus, god of fire and forges, sat in his throne cleaning bits of scrap metal out from under his nails. Poseidon, the god of the sea, creator of horses and 'earth shaker', was twirling the string of the fishing rod around his fingers. Hades, god of the underworld who only ever showed up on proper meetings, was also there. Hera sat next to Zeus, she was his wife, proud and regal, goddess of maternity. The Ophiotaurus swam in his sphere, quietly mooing when he saw Chiron.

"What is the meaning of this, Chiron?" Zeus, god of sky, grumbled.

That was the thing about these meetings. Refreshments, maybe, but no 'how was your holiday' or 'did you hear about the candy shop that closed down'. It's all seriousness here, in Olympus.

Chiron opened his mouth. All the gods were staring at him with utmost intrigue and expectance. Hestia, the goddess of the hearth, looked at him with a knowing smile. Chiron took a deep breath. Bowing, he held out his arms, letting the light of the room mingle with the light of the baby's power. He could feel the breath of every god in the room being held.

At this, the council burst into mayhem. There were questions, possible answers, possibilities yelled across the room, only ending when Apollo's ringtone echoed across the place. Apollo didn't bring it out, only waiting until the ring died down.

"Who is her godly parent?" Zeus asked the gods around him.

"Not me," Apollo muttered.

"Definitely not me," Artemis, the goddess of the Hunt, moon and eternal maiden, said.

"Nor I," Athena put in.

"I don't know her," Hephaestus said.

"Well, she's not mine," Poseidon cut in.

"Me neither," Hermes added.

Aphrodite, unsmiling, said, "I didn't."

"As if I could," Hera said.

Ares drew his sword and absent-mindedly ran his fingers along the flat of the blade. War god. "Couldn't be me."

Hades remained motionless while he spoke. "I kept my vow."

The vow. The 'Big Three', which was Zeus, Poseidon and Hades, made a vow to never have any more children. The reason? Monsters thought that children of the Big Three were delicious. No lie. So they made a vow. But few exceptions came about. Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus, who got turned into a pine tree and then became a Huntress of Artemis. Nico di Angelo, child of Hades, who ran away from camp and stayed in the Underworld only to help win the Titan War several summers ago. Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, who disappeared a couple of summers ago and lost his memory, only to be found in an 'enemy' camp. Oh, the joys of being a powerful demigod, attracting every monster in a 500 feet radius, a specialty.

The whole council turned to Dionysus, who hadn't answered. "You couldn't possibly think that it's _me_, do you?"

"Well think about it," Athena said. "It ended up on your doorstep."

"Then why wasn't it delivered to the mortal parent?" Hera asked.

"Maybe the mortal parent is deceased."

"Then it should have been given to someone who was close to-"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, _wait_," Dionysus said, standing up. "I'm not the father."

Athena started to talk. "Then why-"

"I don't know."

"But you have to be-"

Chiron cleared his throat. The full force of twelve powerful gods' stares hit him. "One of you has to be her godly parent. I've never felt anything so powerful. Not even with a child of the Big Three."

"Are you saying that we are lying?" Hades asked, hand flying to the sword sheathed at his waist.

Another outburst, this time directed at Chiron. "Wait!" he yelled. The baby, who had fallen asleep in his arms, stirred.

"No, calm yourself, Hades," Athena said, holding up a hand. If any of the gods saw sense, Athena could. "If it wasn't any of us, then the question turns to the minor gods."

At her words, everyone turned to Hestia tending the fire.

"Hestia," Chiron said. "Are you-"

"No," she said, turning to face them all. "But I feel not only my power within her, but of many others."

"Well I don't. How is this possible?" Hera asked.

"It could be," Athena said, heads turned in her direction, "that this child has lineage from several gods."

"That is rare," Zeus said.

"Very," Poseidon agreed.

"Rare, but possible," Athena said. "But if it is true, then this child has a difficult fate, an onerous destiny. She will be powerful. If she has the powers of every god she has descended from, then she will be feared. Even us, we should be wise to fear her. When she comes of age, she will have power to topple us from our thrones. She needs to be watched."

"Why don't we just destroy her now?" Ares suggested.

"The killing of a child is a sin."

"Yes, but many already die. Many pass through my gates. Why should she be different?" Hades asked, pointing dramatically at the sleeping baby in Chiron's arms.

Apollo stood up at this point and had everyone's attention immediately. His hands flew up to his head. Everyone stayed still. Apollo, being the god of archery, the sun, medicine, poetry and prophetic oracles, should still be taken seriously, to some extent. "The girl will have to stay."

"What did you see?" Poseidon asked.

"The girl will stay," Apollo repeated, avoiding Poseidon's question. "One of us will have to watch her."

"We could give her to Lupa," Chiron suggested. Lupa raised demigod children of the Roman gods. It was survival of the fittest. You-cry-I-eat-you kind of survival.

At this, Zeus grumbled. "No. Even then, the child might escape her grasp. Monsters must surely sense her power. This task can only be given to one of us. Who is willing?"

Chiron looked at Hera. Hera, being the goddess of marriage, couldn't have a child with a mortal because Zeus was her husband. Therefore, she had no heroes to help her. But she didn't answer.

The god who did, shocked Chiron.

"I will," Artemis said, standing.

Gasps erupted around the room. "Artemis?" Apollo asked.

"I will look after the girl." She walked to Chiron and shrank to human size. "Give her to me, Chiron."

Chiron passed the girl to Artemis. "Are you sure, my lady?"

Artemis nodded, her auburn hair framing her twelve-year-old-looking face. "I am sure. I will make her a Huntress. Immortality will prevent her from coming of age."

"Sister, you know that destinies and fates cannot be fought against," Apollo said. By the sound of his voice, whatever he saw wasn't good. "I, god of prophecies, would know that."

"I must try. I will raise her and teach her the good, to make sure she is not led astray into the path of evil."

"What will you name her?" Chiron asked.

Artemis thought for a moment. "I will give her a name befitting of her power." She walked to the middle of the council and lifted up the baby into the light, lion-king style.

Everyone watched.

Artemis smiled. "I name her Airlia."


	2. Chapter 1

**This is the first chapter and takes place 15 years after the Epilogue. Note: This chapter is in Link's POV, the other main character. Airlia's POV will be the third chapter. I'll try update with new chapters frequently. Let me know what you think. Reviews, please? :)**

**Chapter I- Link: Say 'Cheese'**

**I'd like to say that I was perfectly human, that I had a normal life, a good family, best friends, a girlfriend and that I was not necessarily wealthy. I mean, it's not too much to ask, right? Well, I guess the Fates thought different because I got landed with a god for a father, a celebrity life, ordered as lunch by a couple of gorgons and an empousa as my photographer. No lie.**

I dreamt of a girl in a white dress with a circlet made of silver on her brown hair. She was goddamn beautiful. Living in Hollywood, you'd think that beautiful people aren't hard to come by, but most are made beautiful by money, plastic surgery, make-up, masks… This girl was natural but gorgeous. Like a rose.

Yeah, you heard me right. I live in Hollywood. But I'll tell you more about that later.

Back to the dream at hand. The girl was walking a dog- or was it a wolf? It was definitely a wolf. The wolf whimpered at a pair of footprints in dirt, sniffing the impressions. A beautiful girl walking a wolf? Why not? Working in the movie industry, I'd seen it all. This made perfect sense. To me, anyway.

"Hush, Astra," the girl whispered to the wolf. "I know. He's close." She knelt down and examined the footprints slowly, and now, come to think of it, they looked like no shoe prints that I've ever seen. Unless a guy in a Big Bird costume was walking around drunk. The girl placed a hand on the wolf.

It whined. The girl shot up, standing. The movement was so fast it looked like she'd simply materialised into that position. The girl grabbed a bow from a bag on her back and nocked an arrow. "Come now, Astra, we have to leave. They're coming."

The girl disappeared, taking the dream with her.

I sat up. My room met my now-open eyes. I slipped out of my custom-made Posturepedic bed. My feet felt the cool floorboards of my bedroom floor. I changed into a shirt and shorts, my other clothes would be worked out by my stylist and make-up artist, Calista.

My maid and housekeeper walked in, carrying a tray of bacon and eggs, toast, strawberry jam and orange juice. "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Maria."

I lived in a condo in Hollywood. Scratch that, my room was the entire top floor of a luxury condo that my family owned. My family was currently on holiday in Hawaii, having fun in the holiday home there. I would have gone too, but I'd already went last year to film a movie. Guessed what I am, yet?

My phone rang and I knew who it was before I found it in the pocket of the jeans I wore yesterday afternoon. My agent and publicist, Grace Fielding. "Glad to see that you're awake, superstar," she muttered.

I knew that tone of voice. "Alright. What happened?"

"Turn your plasma on, honey, and _you_ tell me what happened!" she screeched into the phone.

It took another minute to locate my universal remote. Now this thing, it controlled everything. I mean, everything. The alarm, security, schedule and even the toilet flush. I found the right button, pressed it and my twenty-feet-by-twenty-five-feet television flickered to life. A picture of me dominated the screen along with a headline, 'Hollywood Star Gone Too Far?'

Oh, that. The reporter's voice filled my room. "Pictures of troubled teenage actor bad-boy Link East in a drunken, savage brawl last week have been released. The famous trouble-making fifteen year old's publicist refused to comment when interviewed this morning. According to eye-witnesses, the teenager was confronted by the intoxicated twenty-two year old man. It is quite unclear about the exact events, but enough evidence shows that the man was indeed assaulted by the actor. We'll have more on that story later-"

I turned the TV off and held my phone out at an arm's distance. Wait for it…

"EXPLAIN YOURSELF!" Grace shrieked. Maria finished tidying up my bed and exited my room carrying a bundle of dirty clothes.

"It was nothing-"

"OH, SURE IT WAS!"

"I'll see you at the shoot, Grace. You know, the movie? Yeah, I'll see you there when you've calmed down." I hung up before Grace could have another round at me.

I headed down six flights of stairs into the kitchen with my breakfast tray. "Call Flynn for me, will you, Maria?" I said. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Good, I was only ten minutes late.

Flynn showed up at the door in the Mercedes. Legally, I wasn't old enough to drive a car, but I already owned a Ferrari and a Lamborghini. It sucked having to use my mother's car. I hurried into it, only relaxing on the leather seats when the house was out of sight. The paparazzi could be anywhere.

Okay, I guess that I owe you an explanation. I'm Link East, famous actor, trouble-maker, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, I've caused trouble. I'm fifteen. My father left my mother when I was a little kid. I look nothing like my younger siblings. I'd tell you about the brawl, but you'd call me insane. For now, that's all you need to know.

Today, on the jam-packed schedule, I had to shoot a couple of scenes for a movie and a few stills. Stills are snap-shots of me during the movie. The car pulled up to the studio. Flynn got out of the car, subtly checked for the tell-tale glint of camera lenses in the bushes, then signalled that the coast was clear.

As soon as I was in the studio, I was ambushed by Grace and my prep team. I only had time to consider swearing before she was upon me, looking like twenty gorgons and eleven dragons. She was that scary when she was angry.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, LINK?"

The receptionist muttered something about a five-hour early coffee break and disappeared in the wrong direction of the refreshment area.

"Can we just get the stuff over and done with, please?" I said, letting Calista lead me into my prep room.

I was handed things to wear and was forced to sit into a chair while they worked on getting my skin perfect. I was used to not complaining. No matter how ridiculous the costume they give, I have to suck it up and shut up. The life of a celebrity's tough. But I thought that I had it hard.

Calista passed me a Styrofoam cup of coffee. It was bitter, but sipping it gave me something to do.

"Did you clean up at all this morning, Link?" Calista asked, exasperatedly.

"Nope."

"Did you even bother?"

"Nope."

Calista sighed.

I mentally grinned. It was fun, causing mayhem.

I went onto the set and practiced my lines, rehearsed my actions. My co-actor, Jacinta Rhodes, was preparing on the other side of the set. She was Hollywood pretty, which meant 'all make-up and attitude'. She's nice on the other side of the camera, but up close, she's a snobby brat.

And they say that I've got issues.

The director, Ricky, something or other, walked up to me. "Remembered your lines?"

"Yup."

"Good." He strolled over to the director's chair.

I looked around the set and realised a difference. "Hey, where's Jerry?"

"Who's Jerry?" Calista asked, coming over and adding light retouches of make-up.

"You know, the camera-man." I knew him well, seeming that he filmed me pranking my crew behind-the-scenes.

"There is no Jerry. Alice is the camera-man. Or camera-woman," Calista added thoughtfully, motioning to a hag-like woman. Right. Working the cameras was probably the best option for her. With the warts and all, she'd never make it as a make-up artist.

The woman looked at me like, _Hello, lunch._

Ricky called us to our positions. It was scene nick-named 'Aftermath' and it was take 176. I just couldn't nail the kissing part. Would you blame me if you had to kiss someone like Jacinta?

Alice, the hag-woman, directed the camera at us. The crew moved around the lighting. Then Ricky called out 'action'.

I stumbled on the first line.

"Cut!" Ricky called.

"Sorry," I muttered. This happened twice more, but I just couldn't get the words out.

"Maybe last week's fight messed you up," Jacinta snapped, as Ricky called 'cut' for the fourth time.

"Shut up. You try fighting a minotaur." Crap. Oh, no. I slapped a hand over my mouth. It's too late to fix it, she heard me. Her eyes widened. No.

"What?" she gasped.

"Nothing. You didn't hear me." My best hope now was that Jacinta had no idea what a minotaur was. I did. Call me crazy, but that was what I fought. Don't believe me?

Calista broke the awkward silence by reapplying smidges of my make-up. I tried not to sneeze as a cloud of powder started to form. Jacinta flounced off to her waiting prep team.

"Do you want more coffee?" Calista asked.

"No." Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Grace heading over. Calista finished the retouching. "No, wait," I said, grabbing her wrist. "Don't leave."

Too late, Grace reached the two of us. I bit back a swear word. "You can go now, Calista," she said.

All too quickly, like she knew what was coming (believe me, she did), she left, casting me a pitiful look.

"Explain," Grace said, simply.

"The guy was going to kill me, okay?" I said, walking over to the refreshments and prolonged the process of making coffee.

"Oh, totally. Not that excuse again."

I bit my tongue. Gods, she was dim. But if I told her the truth, she'd think I was worse. I'd be called 'superstar' by my cellmates in a mental institute. I wasn't crazy. But the bad thing was, crazy people said that too.

The first time it happened, I let it pass because I'd been to an award's after-party. I'd had a couple of drinks. But when the second time came, the more I doubted the first excuse. I'm not talking, stupid, humiliating things that drunk people do. I'm talking, stupid, humiliating things that people thought I did. You'd run for your life if a guy started hacking at you with a sword.

Thankfully, the camera-woman took that time to introduce herself to me. Non-thankfully, she smelt like a sewer in a sewer. "I am Alice," she said in either an accent, or that was just the way she talked. She held out a wrinkled, wart-covered, discoloured hand.

I shook it. Very gingerly.

"I will shoot you, today," she said.

For some reason, those words caused a chilling sensation to run down my spine.

"Then the movie will be over," she continued. Then she left without another word.

I took the chance to dunk my hand into my coffee just to forget the sensation of feeling her hand-warts on my palm. The scalding helped. Screw it, I probably am insane.

As I took my position on the set again for take 180. Jacinta came back from her prep team looking like they'd drained all the blood out of her. The make-up made her even more pale. Edward Cullen pale.

I'd never noticed before, but all of her prep team were girls wearing the same costume. Well, same colour. All silver. Probably some cheerleading team that went through university together and got landed the same job.

"Are you alright?" I asked her. Maybe if she felt sick, we could delay the scene for another couple of days…

"I'm fine," she muttered.

"No you're not," I said under my breath.

Alice the hag-camera-woman, stepped forward to one of the cameras, a wicked smile on her face. _Today I will shoot you,_ she had said, _then the movie will be over_.

Alice trained the camera on us, and all of a sudden, I felt the cold rush again. Her creepy evil grin still plastered on like she'd taken boosts of Botox. Believe me, when you live in Hollywood, you would know all about Botox.

I wrapped my arms around Jacinta like Ricky told me to. I stared into the camera, waiting for the signal. Whoa.

Maybe I was dim, but for some reason, it looked like the camera had sprouted a few more lenses. Maybe it was a trial for a new type of camera. I caught the look on Alice's face, and her words rang in my head again. _I will shoot you, today_.

The camera didn't have lenses. They _weren't_ lenses. They were barrels. Of a gun.

As the pieces clicked together, Jacinta tensed in my arms. I opened my mouth to deliver a warning, but the message didn't get far. Everything seemed to slow down, and I managed to catch some details everywhere. Grace still looking angry. Calista reapplying her lipstick. My cup of coffee still steaming on the table. The only thing that had changed were the expressions of the make-up team in silver. Just as Ricky called action, Alice the wicked hag-lady wrapped her hands at the bottom of the machine gun, a finger settling on the trigger.


End file.
